Closing Time At The Bluebird Tea Shop
by Laura Schiller
Summary: Take a heartbroken young man, a lonely shopkeeper, a snowstorm, and the perfect pot of tea. Steep for five minutes. Serve warm. Third place in Soccer-Geek's Alternate Pairings Contest.


Closing Time At The Bluebird Tea Shop

By Laura Schiller

Based on: Tokyo Mew Mew

Copyright: Reiko Yoshida & Mia Ikumi

He hadn't meant to get caught in the worst storm of the season without his hat and scarf. While putting out the recycling, he had simply decided – in the foggy-minded way of a man who hadn't slept for the past two nights – to go for a good long walk. Half an hour later, there he was, half blind and stumbling, ears and toes almost frozen with cold, making the door chimes jingle like an out-of-control Christmas sleigh as he blew into the Bluebird Tea Shop.

"Goodness gracious, Aoyama-san! Are you all right?" exclaimed Aizawa Mint, jumping up from behind the counter.

She looked neat and trim as always in her little blue dress, with its white apron tied snugly around her waist and her blue-black hair up in two buns. Her shop was brightly lit, with shelves of brightly colored tea packets, delicate china sets, silver samovars, and white wicker chairs and tables for customers to sit. Each table had a seasonal flower in a vase; today they were poinsettias, red star-shaped blossoms sprinkled with gold. The whole place smelled of bittersweet dried herbs. Piano carols were playing softly in the background. It made him realize what a mess he must look, with his windblown hair and beet-red face, dripping snow all over the hardwood floor.

He hung his head, wishing he'd stopped anywhere else, somewhere people didn't know him. He hadn't meant to let anyone see him like this.

Still, he didn't want to go back out into the storm. Besides, the Bluebird was rumored to sell more than ordinary tea. According to some customers, there was a touch of power in the leaves: elderflower tea to bring happiness to a lonely soul, chamomile for reconciliation, and a smoky black tea that burned away fear like a forest fire. If anyone in the world could help him, it would be her. She

"Ichigo left me," he said. "I don't know what to do."

"Oh. Oh dear. Well … giving yourself pneumonia won't help, I suppose," said Mint. "You'd better sit down."

As Masaya dropped into the nearest chair and began peeling off his wet woolen coat, Mint smoothed her apron and bustled off to the back of the store. After what, to his sleepy senses, could have been five minutes or an hour, she was back, carrying a wooden box and a tea tray. She sat down opposite him, handed him a cup and a silver pot of hot water, and opened the wooden box, which contained about ten different types of tea. She propped her chin on her hands, and said: "All right, what happened?"

"Do I have to tell you all the dirty details?"

"You do if you want me to get the right blend. Though I'd appreciate it if you kept the dirt to a minimum."

Masaya sighed and raised his eyes to the ceiling. Only Mint could get away with talking to her customers like this. Even her rudeness was ladylike. Under different circumstances, he would find it charming. Ichigo had once joked about envying her that quality. _Ichigo _…

They had come to this shop so often together, holding hands across the table, laughing and talking, arguing lightly, and then not so lightly, about how much they could afford to buy. Mint's prices were steep and Ichigo couldn't hold on to money to save her life. By the time they could sit across from each other for half an hour in complete silence, clutching their cups, as unhappy at standing up as they were sitting down, he had known that their relationship was dying, even before Shirogane had insinuated himself on the scene.

"She … she's in love with someone else," he managed to say. "Her boss. Bleach-blond surfer boy. Apparently he's more exciting than I am."

"Excitement is overrated." Mint's lips thinned and her eyes flashed angrily, which surprised him. He hadn't seen her take her clients' stories this personally before.

"I guess I should've seen it coming," he continued. "We've been living in the same space, but not _together_, if you know what I mean … it's just that we've been a couple for so long. Since middle school, even. I don't … it sounds stupid, but I don't know what to do without her."

He couldn't get away from her. She haunted the apartment with absences: the perfumed soaps and shampoos missing from the bathroom; the jumble of short skirts, animal print sweaters, starchy uniforms and hair ribbons from the closet; the slightly scorched casseroles and slightly squishy cakes from the kitchen. He lived on takeout now. Her endless stream of gossip about her friends and co-workers used to annoy him, but without it, the silence was deafening. He missed the warmth of her at night, her easy laughter, her admiration left over from the days when he was still the kendo champion and she was the envy of every girl in school. Now she was a café waitress with a failed acting career behind her, and he was a high school biology teacher who was apparently incapable of being exciting.

"If you ask me," said Mint sharply, "I have to say, I think you're better off."

"Excuse me?!"

"That woman took you for granted. Even I could see that."

"I did the same to her, though," he said, stung into defending Ichigo despite himself. If he hadn't ignored her so often while grading student papers or absorbed in research, if he hadn't looked down his nose at the pink palace where she worked, if he'd kept opening doors for her and giving her quirky little gifts like that bell pendant when they were thirteen …

"That's no excuse for what she did to you. She's a silly, shallow little girl who's not half good enough for you, and - "

"All right, that's enough!" Masaya slapped his hand on the table and stood up, making her jump. "I didn't come here to listen to insults. If you talk about her like that one more time, I'm leaving."

"Wait!" She reached out a small white hand as if to grab his sleeve, but drew it back. Her cheeks were almost as red as his. "Wait, please don't leave. I'm sorry. You're right, that was rude and – and unprofessional of me. And not true, besides. Momomiya-san has always been kind to me. My apologies."

She dipped her head in several quick, remorseful bows, looking so much like a small bird that he had to smile. He sat back down.

"Apology accepted."

"Thank you." Mint's hands fluttered up to smooth some errant strands of hair back behind her ears. "That was … I'm not quite myself tonight, that's all. You know how it gets around the holidays."

Masaya was about to agree, but paused. It struck him that, even after several years as a regular customer, he knew hardly anything about this woman, let alone what her holidays were like. He didn't know what she did when not behind the counter, what she enjoyed besides tea, whether she had anyone to come home to. She had a way of becoming everybody's sarcastic, sensible confidante, keeping everybody's secrets, while giving away none of her own. Was she referring to the usual insanity connected to Christmas shopping, or something more personal?

Looking closely at her, he saw that she was, indeed, not quite herself. Her hair buns were lopsided, one higher than the other, as if she'd tied them in a hurry. Her face was pale beneath her makeup. Her eyes were bloodshot, as if like himself, she had trouble falling asleep.

"Aizawa-san … are _you _all right?"

She startled; he half expected to see her ruffle a pair of wings. "Do you know, you're the first person who's asked me that question in ... I don't even know how long."

"Are you going to answer it?"

"Must I tell you all the dirty details?" she retorted, rolling her eyes, quoting his own words back at him.

"Fair enough. Sorry I asked. It's just … you look like you could use someone to talk to."

What he meant, though he did not want to be so presumptuous as to say it, was that he saw himself in her tonight. In those tired eyes, that fraying temper, that careful façade of perfection that was slowly breaking down, he recognized himself as in a mirror, and he wanted to help.

Mint rubbed her eyes, winced at the clump of mascara that met her fingers and smeared itself below her left eye, and blinked hard at the resulting tears. "Oh, very well," she snapped.

He leaned back and waited, but instead of beginning, she grabbed her scoop and began adding tea leaves to the pot on the table.

"A pinch of Courage," she muttered. "A spoonful of Confidence … Happiness, of course, and …. where's that – oh yes, New Beginnings. Definitely that. Should be ready in about four minutes. You see," she shrugged ruefully. "It turns out I need it as much as you do."

"For what?" asked Masaya.

Mint took a tiny hourglass from the box, set it on the table, and stared at it as if its white grains were counting down to the end of the world.

"Do you ever feel," she said, "That no one in this world knows who you really are? Including you?"

His throat seized up. It felt like the truest thing he'd ever heard, as if those lovely dark eyes of hers were seeing straight into his soul.

"All the time," he said.

"I thought so," she said quietly. "Every time I see you, you look like you just stepped out of a movie screen. No wrinkles, no stains, always smiling, always a gentleman."

"Until today."

She smiled a little. "Right. You wouldn't believe how many crazy theories I had. No one is that perfect, I thought, unless they're hiding something."

Masaya blushed and looked down at his very wrinkled plaid shirt. He hadn't realized she watched him quite so closely.

"I should know," she said bitterly. "I've been trying to be perfect all my life."

"Have you?"

"Oh, yes." She sniffed. "Thanks to my rich parents and my insufferable _onii-sama_. First they pushed me into ballet lessons, then they took it as a personal insult that I wasn't good enough to dance professionally. No matter how much I'd come to love it." Masaya thought of his own dusty row of kendo trophies and nodded in understanding.

"When I decided on this as a career," waving her hand to indicate her shop, "Instead of a wealthy marriage and a lifetime of charity dinners, you wouldn't believe all the commotion it caused. I believe my mother's still in therapy for it. I thought that, once I was out of that house and doing work I loved, I could finally be myself … but instead, it turned out a classic case of 'out of the frying pan'."

" … And into the fire?"

"Exactly." She shot a glare at the hourglass, as if it were personally responsible for her troubles. "A woman in my line of work isn't allowed to be anything but pleasant. No matter how much her feet hurt, or how obnoxious her customers are, or how worried she is about meeting her overhead costs … it's simply not done, Aizawa-san, or she'll drive everyone away. I'm already alone, I couldn't handle being alone and bankrupt as well."

Tears rolled down her cheeks, and she picked up the hourglass and shook it. He could easily see why she wanted the courage-and-confidence blend as soon as possible.

"I know what that's like," he said.

"D-do you?"

"Yes. My parents weren't rich, but their expectations were just as high. I was adopted, you know. Lived in a group home until I was eight."

Mint's eyes widened.

"They chose me because I was the brightest, best-looking, best-behaved child they found. I'm not bragging; it's a fact. I was afraid that if I disappointed them, they'd send me back to that place. I doubt they really would have, but … "

"But it's not an easy thought pattern to break, is it?"

"No … no, it's not."

Masaya looked down at his empty cup to make sure he hadn't already drunk something – an Honesty blend, maybe. He had never talked about this to anyone, not even Ichigo. He doubted that she would have understood. She'd idolized him, until the point his 'perfection' had begun to bore her. Besides, she had a goofy, overprotective father and soft-spoken mother who had loved her unconditionally all her life. He had hoped that becoming part of that family would help him – but in the end, it had only left him more alone.

"I see," said Mint softly, and he really believed that she did.

The hourglass still had a few grains left in it, but she went for the teapot anyway, pouring streams of dark gold into both cups with expert precision.

"There's milk and sugar if you like," she said, her voice still a little hoarse as she took a handkerchief out of her pocket to wipe her face. "Though I don't recommend it."

"You're the expert. Plain tea it is."

He held up his cup in a toast to her, noticing for the first time how pretty it was: white enamel, with blue swirling patterns like clouds or waves.

"To … imperfection," she said, smiling, all the more beautiful for her smudged mascara and the red tip of her nose.

"To imperfection."

The tea warmed him all the way down to his toes, as if a bright fire had been lit inside of him. He could taste lemon, something spicy, and just the slightest breath of mint leaves. Everything was brighter: the velvety red poinsettia in its vase, the silvery teapot, the string of golden Christmas lights along the counter, Mint's glossy hair, and most of all, her eyes.

He felt as if he could run out into that snowstorm in nothing but his shirt and come away in perfect health; as if he could wave his hand and let trees burst out of the concrete, clean the smoggy air, invite wild animals to play on every sidewalk. He could accomplish anything – including, perhaps, the greatest challenge of all.

He sat up very straight, smoothed his hair and cleared his throat.

"Aizawa-san," he said. "Would you mind if … would you care to go out with me? On a date, I mean. Unless, well, unless you'd rather not."

He laughed at his own lack of eloquence, but shrugged it off; after all, he hadn't had to make the first move on a woman since eighth grade.

Mint's reaction was not promising. Her eyebrows arched nearly all the way up to her hairline. "You must be joking."

"Believe me, I'm serious."

"After we've just told each other in detail how screwed up we are?"

Who would have thought he would ever hear a woman like her use the word 'screw' to refer to anything but the contents of a hardware store? He grinned.

"That's exactly why. You know more about me right now than Ichigo did after fifteen years. That's got to count for something. Also, from the moment I first saw you, I thought you should have been a dancer. I'd give anything to see you as the princess in _Swan Lake._"

Mint blushed and held back a smile of pleasure. "That," she said primly, "Is the most unusual pick-up line I've ever received."

He raised an inquiring eyebrow.

"Before I answer, let me tell you a secret." She leaned forward a little, her cup cradled in both hands. Masaya leaned forward as well, alive with curiosity. How many more fascinating discoveries would he make tonight?

"I'm a fraud," said Mint, poker-faced. "A complete and total fraud. My teas work on placebo effect, not because they're magical or anything like that. Some people spread the rumor, and I decided not to contradict it, but it's not true. I don't have powers. Never have."

Masaya paused to let that sink in, then paused a little more just to keep her a little on edge. Finally, he shrugged.

"I've always admired your business sense, Aizawa-san," he said, taking a sip. "But this is genius."

Mint lit up like a moonrise with relief. "You really think so?"

"Mm-hm. And placebo or not, this tea really does work on me. I feel amazing."

"Why, thank you." She smiled at him, a radiant smile that belonged onstage under a blazing spotlight. He felt privileged to be the only one to see it.

"So … about that date I mentioned … "

"I close the shop at six," she said, glancing at her watch, "Which means – oh! Which means I should have done it a quarter of an hour ago. You made me lose track of time!"

"Should I apologize?"

"Certainly not!" She giggled. "What you _should_ do, Aoyama-san, is come with me to that skating rink one block over. Can you skate?"

"Not since I was little."

"Good, then you can teach me."

Nothing like risking your life over the holidays, thought Masaya, already looking forward to the challenge.

"There's only one small problem," he pointed out.

"What problem?"

"The fact that we won't be able to see past the ends of our noses in this storm?"

To his confusion and delight, Mint burst out into a louder, heartier laugh than any he had ever heard from her in their three years' acquaintance.

"Aoyama-san, it stopped snowing almost as soon as you came in! Don't tell me you haven't noticed?"

He twisted around in his chair and, sure enough, it was no longer snowing. The seafood restaurant opposite was clearly visible in the dark of early evening, the walls shimmering with turquoise light. The toy store next to it had a white teddy bear with a red ribbon sitting in the window, positively asking to be hugged. A snowplow was already rumbling along the street, leaving drifts at the curb as high as a child's head, clearing the way for shoppers everywhere.

"I've seen the snow a hundred times already," said Masaya. "And it is beautiful … but tonight is my first chance to really see _you_. And I don't want to miss a single moment."

He stood up, shrugged into his coat, and held out both hands to Mint. He knew she still had to clear the tea things away, wash up, take inventory, set the burglar alarm and accomplish several more responsible tasks before they could glide away into the moonlight, but it was the gesture that counted in romance. If nothing else, Ichigo had taught him that.

Mint placed her small hands into his, allowed him to lift her to her feet, and stood up on tiptoe with a look of playful expectation. She looked like a woman waiting to be kissed.

First date convention or no, Masaya was only too happy to oblige.


End file.
